Hi loves. Yeah, I regret not updating sooner. I know some of you asked about this fic. The truth is that I saved this chapter on a thumb drive and it basically dropped into a black hole or something, cause I can't find it. I had the first unedited page or so on my laptop, so I ended up rewriting the thing. Shame tho. It's not as funny as the original in my humble opinion. So yeah, sorry for the delay.
I apologize in advance for typos/grammatical errors. And I own nothing.
-Cloud Hunting Season: Chapter 3
By: Smiley-chan
I am poked.
I am poked once again.
And for the third and final time I am poked before I come to my senses and attempt to bite off the offending hand. Not really. But I do pride myself in a glare that can burn through steel...not really. I glance down and noticed that I had once again drifted off into the molasses sea of my thoughts. I know this because Aerith is finished with her humongous portion and half of mine is gone.
"What are you thinking about?" she asks, while daintily patting her lips with a napkin.
Funny, she recognizes the though process though it often seems that she doesn't put it to good use.
Oh, nothing much really, just how I regret coming back to life. Actually, lets go a bit further back. I regret meeting Mother, and lets say that it would be better had I not been born at all. I was also thinking that it would be fun to drown Hades in the River Styx. I would be rather pleased to watch the god eternally suffer as wrathful souls of his underworld drag him to the bottom of its watery depths.
"Nothing."
She raises an eyebrow, and gets this weird quirky smile on her face. Its like 'I know what you're trying to hide.' She doesn't know. But it makes me wonder if I have anything for her to know.
"Oh, then who are you thinking about?" she asks, and the ravenous yaoi fan girl look makes an even scarier second appearance. Wow. It probably doesn't help that I was also thinking that providing there was a healthy breeze and my hair was cooperating with me, I could brake Leon's psyche and send him home crying like the woman he is. But if I told her this she would find ways to misinterpret it.
She always does you see. For someone who is meant to serve as a pure, healer-type heroine, she's really a closet-pervert who will turn any random phrase or word into a sexual innuendo. Observe.
"Flower girl."
"Yes?"
"...Salad Fork."
She giggles, hiding her mouth behind her hand. "Tee-hee. Salad fork." She goes on for a couple more seconds, and then winks. "Ah, I see."
I'm just going to sit here and pretend that I understand what the hell is going through her pink little brain, even though I can't possibly begin to comprehend what salad forks have to do with anything besides stabbing salad leafs. Apparently she knows.
The bill comes and because I am the one who wears the pants in this duo (although some fanfic writers would care to disagree), I am the one to dump one of those gigantic 'munny' pieces on the table that I technically shouldn't be able to even lift. I got this hunk of crap when I ran into a defender heartless before coming to the restaurant. It shot a fireball into my head, to be specific, my hair. Fire + Sephy's hair no happy Sephy. Let's say for a heartless that was supposed to have a high defense, it stood not a chance.
…Ahem…well, anyway, I believe I have gotten off-topic. Before I start spontaneously rambling again, I should probably finish my story about the Coliseum. After my encounter with Leon Bunny-hart, which left me in an unhappy mood as many things tend to do, it took me a couple of seconds to realize why I was standing outside the stupid Coliseum in the first place. I had been planning to go in, hadn't I? I was in the due course of being free to maim, bitch-stab, obliterate, have sex with (etc.) any damn person I wanted. That contract will burn in the very unholy fires from which it originated.
As you might have been able to surmise, I thought it would be a pretty good idea to just go inside the filthy place. But as I pushed the doors open, I stood there and stared with which must have been the most bewildered look I've ever worn.
"Common Phil...! I am a hero!"
Okay, it was freaky. Not frightening, just plain weird. What stood in front of me was what Avalanche would have looked like had it been shrunk to a trio and junked up on cartoon steroids. There was a twitchy white-feathered duck that obviously had nothing better to do than shriek in unintelligible English. It just wouldn't shut up. Near by was this...thing. I don't even know what to say about it, besides that it resembled in scary ways one of Hojo's experiments and that its IQ must have been an astounding sum of three. I learned later that it was supposed to resemble a dog...but anyway. It was staring into the air with a vacant expression, only adding a thick-tongued comment when the room had grown too silent.
But the last thing would have made me laugh out loud if that was in my character. The ring-leader of this group was a scrawny teenager who looked like he had barely hit puberty. His bottom lip was jutted out in what seemed to be a pout, and I would have mistaken him for a girl if his voice hadn't been cracking while he whined at a stumpy little satyr at his feet. I closed the door behind me and stood in the corner pondering why it was that no one had noticed me...Seeing as I'm kind of hard to miss.
The kid produced a blue pamphlet from his pocket at waved it in the goat's face. "See?" he exclaimed. "I've got a pass. You gotta let me in!" The satyr named Phil looked really confused.
Chances were I too looked something like that. Didn't that incompetent oaf Hades say something about giving a pass to some kid? I probably missed the body of that conversation. I was too busy contemplating the odds of the dunce suddenly turning mortal so that the whole God position would be open. That was putting my standards a little low, but one has to start somewhere I suppose.
The goat-man, heaving a defeated sigh, said, "Well...I guess I gotta let you in, eh?" The overjoyed teenager flashed a thousand-watt smile that made my inner darkness shriek and go into hiding. He and his animal circus skipped through the doors and into danger like it was a field of bunnies and flowers. Phil scowled. I'm sure I did something similar.
Finally rid of the obnoxious brat, the satyr looked my way. "Who tha heck're you?" he asked unceremoniously. "You don't look like no hero."
Goat man, you have no idea.
But I digress. "I was told you were the one too talk to in order to..." I paused, biting down the urge to vomit. "Enter this...tournament-ish event."
It looked as if Phil had heard this a thousand times before. "You got the paperwork?" Looks like even pigsties are bureaucratic nightmares.
Alright, so this is where it gets difficult. I had placed the whutchamadoodle (eloquent, I know) that Hades had handed me into my trench coat. This piece of clothing ranks among the wonders of the world such as couch cushions and driers. Meaning if something goes in, it may never come out again. So, I took the plunge. A bag of Doritos, a lava lamp, and an overdue copy of A Walk to Remember later, my instincts told me I was getting close.
A blue, humanoid arm flopped lifelessly on the floor.
I stared at it and then at the goat man. He stared at it and then stared at me.
"Erm..."
I picked the limb up, stuffing it back into my coat and muttered a quick apology to my mother. Within another couple of seconds, I pulled out a blue pamphlet.
Was this the blasted thing that Hades gave me?
With a squeak, the thing emitted a puff of blue smoke that smelled of brimstone and cheap cologne.
Likely.
The stubby being took the paperwork from me and then crinkled an eyebrow that was in good need of plucking. "It says here that ya wanna take over the platinum match."
"...Whatever."
What a fantastic response! But really, what do you say to someone when you have no clue what the hell they are talking about?
"Those are some pretty big shoes to fill. Ares, god of war, used to be the opponent in that match."
"Out of curiousity, why doesn't Ares host that match any longer?" I inquired.
"Er..." the thing started. "I think it was...like, a genetic disease or somethin."
I would have laughed psychotically if the timing had been right. Take that, you Olympian cur! I knew incest would bit you in the ass some day!
"You got any experience?" Phil asked, and I nearly snorted.
I was the greatest flipping general who ever lived. No need for the cavalry, tanks, or nukes. I'll take care of it. I got a sequel and a cameo in this retard universe.
But no, not much.
"I think I can handle it. If you don't believe me, perhaps you could provide some kind of..." I paused, because the idea was seriously ridiculous, "test."
Scruffy scratched his chin. "Well, I guess."
Oh goody. Like there wasn't a huge part of me that hoped that you'd just say no. Here's my wish that I get some kind of challenge out of this.
Yeah, yeah, I know. But one can dream can't they?
"What kind of challenge would you have for me?" You know, I was thinking a poison blooded hydra or two, all five titans in the ring at the same...
"Barrels."
Barrels, that sounds goo- wait. Hold up. Excuse me, my inner voice says.
"Excuse me?" I say, my voice threateningly low for even my baritone. Phil looked up, and raised an eyebrow like I was another scrawny, toga-clad wannabe.
"What are ya, some kinda prima Dona? You start out breaking barrels like the rest of 'em." He waved a clipboard at me in a way that may have been intimidating had it not been...me. "If you beat the set limit, you can move on to the prelims. If you beat the record...well, you'll be on your way to better things."
I must have been gaping. But...but I am a Prima Dona! I'm pretty and kickass! Your barrels have got nothing on me. Resisting the urge to pout like the prepubescent child who was probably out there breaking barrels, I did my best not to impale the satyr where he stood.
That was so not fair.
"Life aint fair."
...I really have to learn to keep my inner voices silent.
With my ego sufficiently bruised for the time being, I followed stumpy out into the arena. The shattered boards of a dozen or so barrels littered the floor.
I spotted the kid on the sidelines. He wore the most idiotic grin I'd ever seen and I wondered in passing if he was always happy or if some horrible face trauma had frozen his features that way.
He kept on grinning right as he was exiting the arena. A shudder passed over me. Really now, what was with all the happy? What happened to the days when these spikey-haired protagonists were emo and potentially suicidal? Psh. Kids these days.
Obviously, my presence is still not as imposing at it used to be. No one noticed me. How I know this?
"Oomph!"
That is the noise that a child with ADD makes after barreling into the Sephiroth that he didn't see. The kid landed on his ass and I couldn't help the slight smile for the mere reason that his grin slipped for a split second. He blinked for a moment, until his recognized that there was an actual person there.
"Oh! Hi!" he grinned again. Smile gone. "Sorry, didn't see you."
"Apparently," I answered. He didn't quite pick up on my annoyance.
He waited for his group of cartoon animals to catch up and grinned wider. "Are you here to enter the tournament."
No, I just hang around this place for kicks. "Providing that I can break a few barrels."
In a completely reassuring tone, he answered, "I don't worry! It's easy, especially if you have some kind of sword." This is when I looked down.
"What the hell is that?"
Oh, darn. Another spontaneous outburst. But really now, what the hell is that? It wasn't even a sword. It was like...a key. What kind of damage does he expect to do with that thing? I suspect the same effect could be obtained by bludgeoning someone in the back of the head with a metal baseball bat.
I couldn't help it. It was so cheesy, but...I had to ask: "So...what does that do, defeat door-shaped heartless?"
He sort of gave this half-smile awkward look that suggested that I was the one making no sense, when he, in fact, was the one hefting some useless key around. This is when his exasperating feathery side-kick chose to interject.
"Squack keyblade quack door quack worlds quack squwak quack, okay?"
Okay...?
"Yeah...long story," the kid said, rubbing the back of his spiky head. "Anyway, like I was saying. Good luck with the barrels. I got into the prelims myself, but it'll take a lot of practice for me to beat Leon's record."
It was my turn to grin and this may have been the reason that the kid backed away suddenly and went running down the hall. Leon's record? I could beat that...
Speak of the devil. Enter Emo McGirlpants.
Wait. Should I be concerned that he just left?
Ha! No. This universe is riddled with to many plot holes for me to sort them out now.
He looked up from his feet for a moment, which surprisingly weren't clad in sharpie covered converse or something equally as homosexual. 'Like knee-length leather boots?' my inner voices sneered. My inner voices then got their asses smeared into the ground by a little friend I like to call my inner contempt.
Leonhart stared warily, probably afraid that that I'd sling another nonsensical-yet-endearingly-disturbing insult his way. "Oh, it's you," he said in the most pathetically apathetic voice I have ever heard. For a moment, one would be able to imagine that he once suffered some kind of horrible tragedy, where he was unable to save that which he cared the most about. Perhaps this is what he hides behind a mask of indifference.
Yeah, sure.
Go home Leonhart. Listen to Evanescence and cut yourself.
"What is your name, anyway?" he asked.
"Sephiroth."
He narrowed his eyes. "Sounds sinister."
My inner voices were revived and giggled like a school girl.
"Thank you."
Releasing yet another detached, emo sigh, he returned his attention to his feet and trudged onwards. Asshole, didn't offer his name. Learn some fucking manners. Then again, he must have figured that I already knew it, seeing as screamed it at him in combination with a number of my own creative obscenities less than a half an hour before then.
"Well," he muttered. "Good luck beating the new record." He sniffed dejectedly, and for a moment, it looked as if he might have actually started to cry.
I raised an eyebrow. "I thought you held the record."
"Meh."
I see. So someone else already sucked the fun out of life.
Stepping out into the arena, I was ready to show those barrels who was boss.
The final boss, to be precise.
TBC!
Note: I have nothing against Converse or Evanescence. XD
Thanks very much to my reviewers: Lady Ven'n, Aquila Strife, Riku54- Vincent's Demon, Nightfire45, and special thanks to FantasyFanatic1 (cause it made me feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside. Lolz)
Reviews please.
